Of Dwarves and Hobbits
by nevergreen
Summary: Pearl Brandybuck is a restless young hobbit suffering from a thirst for adventure- so when her cousin Bilbo Baggins is propositioned by the company of Dwarves, the opportunity cannot be missed. With the assistance of her grey-clad friend, Pearl embarks on the adventure of a lifetime. Pearl/Thorin. Currently revising this, (again, sheesh), but not abandoned, my dear readers!
1. Chapter 1

Note to the Reader: This has been revised for a second time, because of errors and things that didn't completely fit the cannon of the hobbit so a few details have been changed. Going to revise chapter two and then publish chapter three, hopefully in a weeks time. I'm sorry for the wait, everyday life has a habit of getting in the way of writing, but thanks so much to everyone that has enjoyed this story.

Chapter One

In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Pearl sighed and let the quill fall from her fingertips, the carefully looped letters glistened from the still drying ink, it was not the beginning of any great tale that she had ever heard. She crushed the parchment into a tight ball and deposited it with the rest of her rejected ideas.

'Pearl! Where are you?', the agitated voice of her mother reached through the walls and into the sanctuary of her study.

To ignore the summons, well, it was not a thought worth entertaining. An elaborately decorated hallway greeted Pearl, the family portraits lovingly hung from the walls recalled a long lineage of hobbits with well-lined pockets, several doors would lead rooms just a cosy and beautifully cared for. Of the most importance though, were the several well-filled pantries, and the hundreds of windows that bathed the decorous rooms in bright light. Hobbit-houses would always contain several pantries, since they are unified in their cherishment of warmth and food: however Pearl lived in Brandy Hall. It was her ancestral home, the home of the Brandybuck family, and her mother would never let her forget it.

'Pearl!', her mother called again, the impatience and shrillness increasing with each call.

'What is it?', Pearl asked as she burst into the dining-room.

Moments liked this filled her mind with thoughts of leaving Brandybuck Hall, perhaps forever, although the only option would be through marriage. This immediately quelled her racing thoughts of escapement, since she had yet to meet another hobbit that she would consider marrying.

Her mother levelled a stony gaze towards her, blissfully unaware of Pearl's rebellious thoughts, displeasure radiated from her small form. The sound of tat-tat spread through the awkward silence as she tapped a bare foot on the tiled floor. She flicked a perfectly coiled, dark strand of hair over her shoulder: Pearl knew from experience that this was a definite signal that she was deeply unimpressed.

The cause of her mother's displeasure was laid out on the dining-room table. Rabbits, which had been shot down by Pearl's own arrows, in the early hours of the morning: she had then unceremoniously dropped onto the table and forgotten about. Pearl was a fair marksman and intended to sell them, since rabbit was a popular culinary dish in the Shire, where few hobbits had the skill or motivation to catch them. She remembered the tensions in her mother's forehead, and the folded arms, from previous sermons- the frown lines in the proud forehead accused Pearl of being the destroyer of ancient crockery, the only daughter to stain the doilies or blunt the silverware. Her mother had clearly had enough of the silence, pointed at the rabbits and began her reprimand:

'Pearl, you are aware that this is Brandy Hall and not a pig-sty? That means comfort and good food, not these...carcasses on our dining-table!', her mother said. She rushed the words out in one breath, her cheeks flushed with irritation: she had always suffered from a short temper. She picked the rabbits up by the ears and held them out towards her daughter, 'Take these poor creatures away, please'.

'I was practicing with my bow, but then I realised that my feet were covered in mud…', Pearl's words trailed off.

She was well aware that she wasn't helping her own defence, it would be wiser to cease talking, at least until her mother had stopped imitating a boiling kettle. An image of her mother with steam pouring out of her ears danced through Pearl's mind, she suppressed her laughter.

'Your feet- Pearl! How many do I need to tell you to clean them before you traipse dirt all through our home? This floor has just been cleaned...', her mother sighed exaggeratedly and threw herself into the nearest chair with an arm over her eyes.

You would think that she had actually scrubbed the floor herself, Pearl grouched silently, instead of having the housekeeper do it. The thought of Esme polishing the dining-table sparked an ember of guilt in her, it was a large home as each generation of the Brandybuck family seemed to extend it even further, and it was not a small task to ensure it was thoroughly cleaned.

'I could clean it now...', she offered.

'Don't bother, I will have to ask Esme to do it, I need you to run an errand for me as proof of your penitence. Whilst it is good for my children to have a hobby that doesn't involve giving me even more grey hairs, never put rabbits on the table again', her mother said.

Lifting her heavy figure from the chair, she walked to the kitchen. Pearl knew better than to remain in the dining room, if she didn't follow then the scolding would inevitably continue, it would then be focused on her lack of devotion as a daughter. Paintings of deceased family-members stared down from the walls, most of them she had never met but was happily told tales of them, often repeatedly, by her father. Their eyes seemed to accuse her of defiling the dining-room table. Pearl liked to think that was true, she imagined her ancestors gossiping and griping about the irresponsible and wayward nature of their descendants. Her mother clattered through the kitchen, one of the places that she did any form of labour- her baking was exceptional and renowned throughout Buckland.

'Take these', her Mother commanded.

She hooked the basket of cake onto Pearl's free arm. A sweet-smell wafted towards her nose, it carried the promise of delicious baked goods, her mouth watered and her stomach announced its presence with a loud grumble.

'I baked these earlier, be a dear and take these to your cousin, Bilbo. It will almost be time for afternoon tea and no doubt he will be famished. Don't give me that look, remember that lovely hair clasp he gave you on his birthday? Oh wait, before you go, let me do something with your hair!', she cried and waved Pearl into a chair.

Pearl sighed at this, feeling far more of the grime and dirt on her green cloak, the mud that covered her dark trousers from kneeling down to collect her arrows. These were not the typical garments that a young Lady, and certainly not apparel that one from a well-to-do family should really wear, an observation that particularly concerned her parents. Ever since Primula became engaged, Pearl thought to herself, it has been- oh, you really must brush your hair before your leave. And- don't wear that tatty old cloak, we really must take you to the seamstress to be fitted with new clothing. She had little intention of following the example set by her sister. She was barely thirty-five, plenty of time for marriage and bundles of small hobbit-boys and hobbit-girls yet, she yearned for something ...different. Pearl was not entirely sure the exact thing that she desired but she was determined to find it. Besides, other than Bilbo and her immediate relatives, she barely spoke to anyone. It did not form the ideal situation for courting.

'Please don't play with my hair, Mother', she pleaded. She had naturally taken the proffered chair, her mother was a force to be reckoned with, and experience told her that compliance was the route of least suffering.

'At least let me remove those leaves and comb your hair, it looks more like a bird's nest than your silky', her Mother stopped talking because the comb was stuck and concentrated on her attempts to remove it, 'curly', she gave a painful yank, 'beautif-'

'Ouch! Was that a crack? Did you just break the comb? Did that really just happen?', Pearl touched her painful scalp and felt the comb, missing its handle, embedded in her tangled hair. She pulled it out as delicately as she could, sending a glare towards her Mother.

'Don't, it is fine. I will take care of it later', she paused and looked pointedly at her mother, 'although I may need to borrow a comb.'

Pearl walked through the wooden-panelled hallway: the walls were lined with more ancestral portraits and illuminated by the tall, white candles glowing in the chandeliers. She could remember the way that her younger self would race along these wide, circular corridors. Her brothers would chase her and Primula, if they caught them, then they would tickle them until they screamed. Her mother and father would investigate the commotion and then watch on, laughing warmly. Just before she left, her mother called out:

'On second thought, leave one of those rabbits behind, darling. We can have it in a pie!'

Closing the bright red and round door behind her, Pearl sighed and headed towards the uckleberry Ferry. Visiting Bilbo would be pleasant- she thought to herself, and at the very least she would be able to eat a few of those cakes. Bilbo probably wouldn't be thrilled to have an unexpected guest but Pearl decided that she wasn't too bothered with social niceties anyway, usually it meant that people said things they didn't mean and even worse, did things that they didn't want to. Her stomach grumbled and Pearl decided she couldn't wait a minute more and after all, it really _was _a long time after breakfast. The delicious smell that emanated from the cakes was just too difficult for any hobbit, regardless of the strength of their willpower, to resist.

The 'ferry' was a sturdy and rectangular wooden-raft and it was attached by thick rope to a post, to prevent it floating down the Brandywine River. Pearl placed her basket, the remaining rabbits and her bow on the floor of the ferry and steered herself across the river with one of the large oars. The raft-ferry made the crossing easily and she tied it securely to ensure she would be able to return home. After walking a fair distance, Pearl finally began to approach The Hill, she realised with surprise that an old man was walking towards her.

His direction suggested that he had just left Bilbo's hobbit-hole. He carried a staff and she could hear him humming a song to himself. He had a tall pointed blue hat, a long grey cloak, a silver scarf over which his long white beard hung below his waist, and immense black boots. I want to talk to him, Pearl decided, although I cannot think of a reason for it except that the compulsion to do so is overwhelming. There was something about this old man, it made her adventurous Fallohidish blood raise its head and demanded recklessness and with a whimsy uncharacteristic of most hobbits, that she had to speak to the mysterious man.

'Good morning!', she called, craning her neck to look him in the face.

He really was incredibly tall, she felt as though he was three-times her height and Pearl was tall for a hobbit. She stood at an entire four foot and two inches tall, her mother had proudly declared that she must take after her famous ancestor, Bullroarer Took. Pearl thought that it was more likely a trait in her entire family line, they tended towards taller stature and slimmer waistlines than many other hobbits, especially those that lived in the Shire.

'So I have been informed a few times already today, and I wish you a good morning too, young Lady. You have the look of a Took about you, tell me, am I correct?'

'I-I am,' Pearl replied, feeling puzzled by the strange and somewhat unnerving question, she had only wished to greet the man and hadn't anticipated his unusual response. 'Mirabella is my mother, known as Mirabella Took before her marriage. How can you possibly know that?'

'Mirabella was a remarkable hobbit in her youth, and so was your Aunt Belladonna, you bear a strong resemblance to both', he responded. He gazed down at her with calm eyes, as though his sudden question had not been impolite or off-putting, which it had.

Realisation spread through Pearl, as she looked into his wrinkled face beneath his blue hat, and the warm brown eyes looked down at her. Memories of spectacular fire-works and outlandish tales of goblins, elves and dragons rushed animatedly through her mind. Most importantly, if this was the man Pearl thought it was, he responsible for the many quiet lads and lasses that had left the Shire and gone off on wild adventures. The reputations of these young hobbit lads and lasses were, naturally, completely ruined within polite society. Pearl thought it sounded perfect.

'Gandalf?', she asked. Pearl resisted the urge to fidget under the intensity of his gaze, she was assisted in this goal by the rabbits held in one hand and the basket of cakes in the other. The rabbit's eyes glistened in the sunlight, they looked at her accusingly, and Pearl hoped that the butcher would be able to salvage them for meat.

'Were you visiting Bilbo, by any chance?', Pearl asked. She was feeling bolder, now that she recognised the man, she could ask blunt questions as much as he could. It was the grey wizard, he had inclined his head at her question, acknowledging his name. Gandalf laughed quietly to himself at this question, making her even more curious.

'Indeed, I was. Very amusing for me, although I fear it left him out-of-sorts. I am invited to tea and it should be quite the evening. Those wonderful-smelling cakes may help bring Bilbo back to himself. Mirabella was always a fantastic baker...' Gandalf hinted. He took the cake that Pearl hurriedly offered him with one hand: they seemed unbelievably large, bigger than both her feet put together.

'Perhaps I will see you later then', Pearl responded.

She was desperate to know the reason that Gandalf the Grey visited her cousin. Bilbo was a wealthy bachelor, one of the most respectable and predictable hobbits that she knew, it was curious indeed that he would entertain a wizard. I want to be a part of it, Pearl thought to herself, whatever it is. Her father had warned his children that trouble always followed a wizard, but it was a price that she would happily pay. She dreamed of leaving the borders of her tiny home, even though it was comfortable and easy, and very little was asked of her. Despite being a hobbit, she was not content with just seven meals a day, although she would always take them if they were offered.

'Yes, I think that would be best, you must endeavour to be there young Pearl Brandybuck. Tomorrow evening, don't be late. Now off you go', Gandalf smiled at her and raised his bushy eyebrows.

Anticipation surged through her, this had to mean something: surely the wizard would not have requested her presence otherwise. The exact nature of the _something _eluded her, however it filled her with anticipation. She ran up the pathway and knocked the shiny yellow brass knob on the perfectly round and bright green door.

'Go away! I'm not in!', Bilbo's disembodied voice shouted from the other side of the door.

'It's just me, Pearl. Let me in.'

'No visitors, I'm sick! You will catch it because I'm suffering from a terribly infectious...infection!'

'Bilbo! I know you spoke to Gandalf, so just let me in. I have cakes.'

This was followed by an awkward silence, so Pearl clarified, 'If you are concerned for your well-being, I did not make them, they were lovingly baked by your doting Aunt'.

There was silence on the other side of the door and then movement, she heard the sound of a latch being lifted and the door opened slightly. Bilbo peered through the gap at her, as if he was ensuring that nobody else waited on the other side for him, he waved at her to come inside.

'Hurry then, come in!'

Bilbo shut the door quickly as soon as Pearl was inside: he locked the latch with nimble fingers, he seemed completely out of-sorts. He seemed to remember that he had a guest, and embarrassed by his strange form of a greeting, he smiled at Pearl apologetically.

'Oh, let me hang you cloak up and take that- is this a bow? Why do you- no, actually, I shan't ask.'

Bilbo looked at the bow as if he had never seen such a contraption before and then placed it in the corner of the hallway. Pearl suspected that if Bilbo had seen a bow then it would be in a cupboard somewhere, along with other unwanted and useless items.

'Please forgive me, it has been the most terrible morning', Bilbo said. He sat down on a wide, wooden bench and motioned for her to do the same.

Pearl had always enjoyed her previous visits to Bag End, it evidently belonged to a very wealthy hobbit, and it was ornate but homely. The walls were wood-panelled, the floor in the hallway made from an unusually dark wood, and many pegs for coats and hats lined the wall. Bilbo was one of the few relatives that she enjoyed spending time with, although they were almost opposites. She could not bring herself to voluntarily seek the company of others, she worried about embarrassing herself or that she would be too blunt and offend them. The strange politics of social interaction often eluded her. I'm better off alone, she had told herself many times, typically after a particularly embarrassing moment became destined to form a painful memory.

'Did our grey-clothed friend worry you? He seemed rather pleased with himself,' Pearl said.

'Did he now? He's got into his head that I'm going off on an adventure- me? A Baggins? I don't think so, it would be most inappropriate for Bag End to be unoccupied', Bilbo said.

He paused to straighten his waist coat which had risen up slightly, the golden buttons gleaming proudly, Pearl thought that perhaps she should have eaten more of the cakes. Bilbo's waistline and straining, fancy buttons might have thanked her.

'Travelling could be fun, it can be very quiet and dull here, you might even meet _Elves'_, Pearl enthused and then realised that she had lied, the Shire was nearly _always _dull.

'Somehow I thought you would think that. You must come to dinner later, I will need a familiar face to retain my wits', Bilbo said.

'I will cancel any and all previous engagements! Anything for you, Bilbo!' Pearl said, curtseying and with exaggerated sincerity in her voice. Bilbo laughed.

The next evening, Pearl soaked in her round washing-tub, it sat in the centre of the room and was made of metal. It took a long time for Esme and her assistants to fill the tub to the brim with boiling water, and Pearl had stood shivering a linen towel, but now the bubbles covered most of her body.

Hot, clean water felt divine against her aching muscles, she wasn't stout like many older hobbits or Bilbo, her figure was small and slight. She picked the pale, pink soap from the wooden tray, it was shaped like a star and smelt of freshly cut roses, it easily washed the dirt and grease from her hair. The soaps were expensive but Pearl loved them, her mother would laugh and accuse her of being a fish-child, she spent so long bathing. She put the soap back onto the tray when her relaxation was rudely interrupted- a bedpost knocked repeatedly against the wall and was followed by high pitched moans and then lower, deeper ones. Pearl quickly ducked her head under the water to escape the sounds, she needed to rinse the soap from her hair anyway, she hoped that it would be able to tame her wild hair- for a while, at least. Resurfacing from the bathwater, the noises from the next room had increased in urgency, Pearl wrapped herself in the linen towel quickly and ran into her room, that was conjoined with the wash-room. Shutting the door granted her reprieve from the disturbing sound of her sister, Primula and her husband, making love.

Pearl's room was brightly-lit by three large, round windows. The bed was underneath these windows, when the sun rose, she would wake with the warmth. Maps and pictures that she had copied from books in the family library graced the walls, piles of paper were strewn over the desk, she had attempted to learn several languages by herself and failed. I lack the discipline, Pearl criticised herself, she struggled to maintain concentration on a single task for long, her temperament was too flighty. She had inherited her Grandmother's armoire, it had suffered at the hands of her siblings, they had scratched their heights and names on its doors.

A dress was laid across the bed, her mother had been so excited that Pearl was going for tea at Bag End, the new dress had materialised from that energy. The dress was a dark green with long sleeves, Pearl had to admit that her mother had chosen well, it flattered her small waist and pale complexion. It was floor length, as were all hobbit-dresses but fit her form closely, ensuring that her small frame wasn't swamped in material.

She was satisfied when she glanced in the mirror before leaving. Her curly, dark hair was predominantly loose with part of it held up by an ornate hair clasp, crafted from silver and decorated with sapphires. Her mother would be proud. Blue eyes reflected back and declared her a traitor.

'You're flustered', she said, when she arrived at Bag-End.

Bilbo sighed with exasperation, gesturing for her to come inside. His light brown hair was messy and he appeared even more distressed than the previous day.

'There's a dwarf in my kitchen, called Dwalin, he ate my dinner and now he is eating _everything else',_ Bilbo hissed through his teeth, looking nervously down the hallway, with a desperate gleam in his eyes.

'A dwarf? I've never met one before, is he taller than a hobbit?' she asked excitedly.

Pearl hurried to the kitchen, urgently wishing to observe this new specimen, it was not as she had anticipated. Her eyes widened, he was big, he was taller than her and about four times as wide. His arms bulged with muscle as he ate his way through the jar of biscuits that he had found, tipping it to get as many of the crumbs that were left as he could. He looked like he could easily rip a door off its hinges. Actually, Pearl was sure that he probably _had _ripped a surprisingly large number of doors off their hinges.

'Good evening', she greeted in a quiet voice. She felt nervous, faced with this mountain of a dwarf, he could easily overpower both of the hobbits.

The dwarf grunted in response and continued chasing the crumbs. Another knock on the door. Pearl didn't bother saying excuse me as she left, for some reason she suspected the dwarf wouldn't notice, since he had just found the basket of cakes.

Bilbo opened the door, and there was a very-old looking dwarf with a white beard standing there and he hopped inside as soon as the door was open, just as if he had been invited.

'Excellent, I see they have begun to arrive already,' he said when he caught sight of Dwalin's hood hanging up. He hung his hood up as well, and 'Balin at your service!' he said with his hand on his breast.

'Thank you', said Bilbo with a gasp. He is becoming more flustered by the second, Pearl thought to herself, he's probably regretting inviting anybody over for tea at all.

'Good evening, your dwarven friend is waiting you in the kitchen, perhaps the dining-room would be more suitable...', Pearl offered unsurely, since her cousin seemed lost in his own agitation, but she didn't want them to appear rude.

'Thank you, young Lady. What should I call you?', Balin asked politely.

His seems almost entirely different to the other dwarf, Pearl thought, in both manners and dress . She was relieved by his presence, she felt less intimidated by presence of the bald and muscular dwarf, when this quieter and well-mannered one was also there.

'Just call me Pearl', she replied.

'Brother!', Balin cried out. The other dwarf had wondered into the hallway in search of more food, he had been attempting to open another jar of biscuits, when his brother had arrive.

'Look at you- I believe you're both shorter and fatter than the last time we met', Dwalin laughed. It was the most succinct either of the hobbits had observed the burly dwarf.

Pearl had then expected the siblings to embrace, albeit, in a masculine and armoured way. It was quite unexpected when the two dwarves greeted each other with a rather spectacular head-butt. Pearl's teeth rang merely from the consequential sound when the two broad foreheads made contact. The dwarves then laughingly made their back into the dining-room.

'Do you suppose that any more will arrive? If so, then I hope that they are more like Balin and less like...the other one.'

'I hope there are no more! I like visitors, but I like to know them before they arrive, don't get me wrong and I like to have invited them myself...', Bilbo hurriedly said but the door knocked again before he could finish.

This time two dwarves were waiting at the door. They were both young, for some reason this surprised Pearl, she had never imagined dwarves as young. Reading of their history from books, it had always seemed to her that they would be of great age, with long, braided beards. Despite her expectations, her eyes insistently reported that they were both handsome, although the unusually fair-haired one did indeed have a braided beard. Pearl's mind could not dispute the attractiveness of the dwarves. The youngest one had attractively dark eyes and a reckless grin, Pearl couldn't help but stare a little longer at this dwarf to her chagrin, she forced herself to look back at Bilbo before anybody realised. She frowned at herself, perhaps she shouldn't have come to Bag End this evening, it was causing her to feel strange.

Their names were Kíli and Fíli, the latter threw his sheathed blades to Bilbo and told him to, 'be careful with those, only just had them sharpened!', then they introduced themselves to Pearl.

Fíli winked at her as he walked past and Kíli looked backed again before going into the dining-room. Stop blushing, Pearl furiously told herself, you're only reacting this way because they're so...different. Their mannerisms and bearing was entirely strange to her, they seemed loud and reckless and...bawdy. It's just teasing, she cursed her pale complexion, then a gentle hand was placed on her arm.

'Don't worry, I'm sure there will be enough food in the pantry. I hadn't been planning to buy more food for at least a fortnight' Bilbo said, misinterpreting her embarrassment.

'Oh good', Pearl responded distractedly.

A little while later and the entire dining-room at Bag End had been filled with dwarves. Neither of the hobbits had quite adjusted to the level of noise and chaos that had accompanied them, Pearl had salvaged an expensive bottle of wine from the pantry and was drinking it at a reckless pace. This really is delicious, she thought to herself and poured her third glass. Dwalin, Balin, Kíli, Fíli, Dori, Nori, Ori, Oin and Gloin had called for ale. Some had called for porter, and one for coffee, all of them for cakes, so the two hobbits were kept very busy for a while.

Perhaps I should have drank slightly less wine, Pearl mused as she stood inside the pantry, for the fourth or fifth time that evening. She had completely forgotten the requests, but she was reluctant to share the particularly delicious wine she had discovered. She bought them a giant piece of cooked ham instead and several bottles of cheaper wine, from the label she guessed that it wasn't outrageously priced but still expensive. They didn't complain.

'Let Pearl bring us the food from now on!', Kíli shouted. He then threw a piece of bacon into Dwalin's mouth across the table.

Pearl laughed, but caught sight of the frown that crossed Bilbo's face and stopped. She attempted to hide the wine however it was too late. Bilbo had noticed it and confiscated the remainder of the bottle.

'What are you doing?', she cried.

'You've had too much and I need you to stay relatively sober this evening. If only for my sake, a fellow hobbit would comforting', Bilbo replied.

Three more dwarves arrived- they were called Bifur, Bofur and Bombur arrived, they joined the others in the dining room. Gandalf arrived after them with a loud rat-tat on the door. Bilbo rushed along the passage and pulled open the door with a jerk. I will just rest on this comfortable chair, Pearl decided feeling warm and struggling to be concerned with the noise around her, she longed for the soft goose-feather pillows on her bed. However the most recently arrived guest objected to her retired position. Pearl resented Gandalf as he frowned down at her and then pulled her to a standing position

'Come on, it isn't like you, Pearl to be sitting around! So up you get, this is an important evening for you too'.

Gandalf seemed appeased when she offered him a glass of the wine that she had reclaimed from its hiding spot. I better give him the rest of the bottle, Pearl realised, hobbit glasses are far too small for someone so tall. She pulled it out of the cushion and handed it to the Wizard. Gandalf raised his eyebrows but tucked the bottle into his pocket.

'Brandy Hall is a warm and hospitable as ever,' Gandalf said.

Pearl looked up sharply at this seemingly innocent comment, she was surprised that the wizard had visited her home, and wondered about his motivation. Perhaps he was merely curious in following the lives of every off-shoot of the Took clan. She could not imagine the wizard and her father feasting at the huge dining-room table, groaning under the weight of various breads, meats and cheeses, however she would have been unable to imagine such unmitigated chaos flooding the rooms of Bag-End before this evening.

'I've always thought so, you should probably have invited the dwarves there instead, it would hold twice their number', Pearl said.

Gandalf chuckled at this, 'I suppose that it would. However, I fear that Mirabella would combust if her home was invaded by so many dwarves, she has changed a great deal. Her temper is, of course, exactly the same.'

'You made her angry?', Pearl asked.

She wondered if the wizard had mentioned the adventure that he intended to convince Bilbo to join, just the notion would have distressed her mother, now _that _she found incredibly easy to visualise. Gandalf would be thanked for company, wished well in his travels but that did not want any of that _sort of business at Brandybuck Hall, _thank you very much and don't hurry back. Pearl was certain that the wizard would have asked her to Bag-End for a reason, she was not sure if an adventure would be the correct choice, even if she was to be asked. I need to know the details before I decide, Pearl thought to herself, I don't want to commit myself to a potentially ruinous path without more knowledge of what it would entail. She hoped that the evening would soon grant some level of transparency behind the arrival of the strange company of dwarves.

'More concerned, really', Gandalf replied. 'I may have mentioned that your presence would be of particular usefulness, to a travel-weary and old man, particularly on a small expedition. One that he would loathe to undergo alone. Not entirely honest but truthful enough'.

'Oh, I see', Pearl responded dumbly. She could not imagine that the exchange of words would have been pleasant. 'And what did they say?'

'The Master of Buckland was amiable to the idea', Gandalf said, without giving any further details.

Bilbo chose this moment to shout, at the top of his voice, 'Confusticate and bebother these dwarves!'.

Clearly he had realised the impossibly messy state of his dining-room. This acted as a signal to the dwarves, they burst into a flurry of activity, with bowls and plates flying everywhere. Singing was involved. They really love singing, Pearl was beginning to realised. She burst out laughing as a plate flew past her and landed in Fíli's hand, which he then proceeded to bounce from elbow to elbow with remarkable agility. They sang:

_Chip the glasses and crack the plates!_

_Blunt the knives and bend the forks!_

_That's what Bilbo Baggins hates-_

_Smash the bottles and burn the corks!_

_That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!_

_So, carefully! carefully with the plates!_

Pearl didn't anticipate that they would do any of these things for one second, the dwarves seemed completely good-hearted, if very loud and chaotic. Everything was cleaned and put away with great efficiency, Bilbo was rushing around trying to work out where everything was and if anything had been dropped, while Pearl watched on with amusement.

This commotion was interrupted by two, loud and resounding knocks on the door. Silence fell over dwarves, hobbits and the grey wizard. Gandalf opened the door. The final guest to arrive garnered all of Pearl's attention. Everything about him seemed dark, like a silhouette, standing in the doorway. He had the longest hair she had seen on a man, other than Gandalf, it fell past his shoulders in dark waves. There were even braids in his hair, which Pearl had never seen on a man, before she had met the dwarves. Hobbits would braid their little girls hair, to stop it from tangling when they played and avoid tears when they inevitably needed unknotting. However there was nothing feminine about the dark braids on this dwarf, they hung from his head like a mane, or perhaps a crown. His beard and clothing were of a similar shade.

'I thought that you said this place would be easy to find, Gandalf?', he asked and began scrapping mud from his boot on the door. 'I lost my way twice on the road and wouldn't have find it at all, it the symbol had not been on the door'.

'Symbol?', Bilbo exclaimed, 'There isn't any symbol on that door, it was painted only last week!'.

'There _is_. I put it there', Gandalf responded with certainty.

The accent of this dwarf, Thorin Oakenshield, was entirely different to any other she had heard. It was gruff but with a pleasant lilting sound as well, Pearl decided that she wanted to hear him talk some more. He carried himself as a dwarf of enormous importance. Dark blue eyes met hers, Pearl was surprised by the intensity of the gaze and he immediately walked towards her. Thorin stood close, she could see that he wore chainmail, underneath his thick coat- made from leather and lined with fur. He must be so used to battle, she thought, to be able to wear his armour like a vest. He carried the smell of the damp grass and air outside, and also leather. Pearl had expected him to smell of sweat, since he was dressed for travel, clearly he had bathed recently.

'So this is the Hobbit', he declared. He stared down at her.

'Tell me, what is your weapon of choice?', he asked.

'My bow,' Pearl replied immediately. This introduction made her concerned that there would be a gauntlet of questions for her to answer.

Thorin seemed surprised by the quickness of her response, his eyebrows rose slightly but his lips twisted upwards at the corners, into a small half-smile. Pearl felt that she had passed an inspection of some kind, although she was not sure of the reason behind it.

'Actually, that one is not the hobbit. This particular one is Pearl, daughter of Gorbadoc, the Master of Buckland,' Gandalf replied.

That is an unusual way to introduce me, Pearl thought, surely the dwarf will not care or even know of our social hierarchy. Hobbits did not have Kings, they barely had a militia and her father only really had nominal power. Perhaps the dwarves were more concerned with such things, she wondered, so the status of my father would matter. Thorin had nodded at the introduction and then said more, instead he turned his attention towards Bilbo and asked his question again:

'What kind of weapon training have you had?'.

Thorin asked questions the way that others made statements. Pearl had never met someone with such an aura of confidence before, she been finding it difficult to tear her eyes away ever since he had appeared at the door, they were continually drawn back to the dwarf. Pearl decided that consuming so much of the rich wine had been an erroneous decision, it had left her far too impressionable.

'Well, if you must know, I'm very good at conkers', Bilbo replied with bluster.

'As I thought, he looks more like a Grocer than a burglar!', Thorin laughed quietly and walked into the dining room. Pearl's curiosity was peaked by the description of _burglar- _what could they steal, that would be so dangerous, that weapons would be needed?

The gathering finally resembled a meeting, the dwarves were seated and almost quiet, Pearl would not have believed it possible if she hadn't seen it with her own eyes. Thorin and Gandalf sat at the head of the table, the two hobbits stood behind them, Bilbo looked anxious. Thorin intended to travel to Erebor, Pearl knew of the place as the Lonely Mountain from her maps, which were all in the common tongue, Thorin wanted to reclaim the treasure of his people. Smaug the dragon, one of the few remaining great fire-drakes, had desolated the kingdom of the dwarves in his greedy pursuit of their gold. Gandalf had come to the Shire in order to find a hobbit to accompany, since they were so light on their feet and Smaug would not recognise them. He wanted Bilbo. The other hobbit had, naturally, been distressed by this realisation. He had fainted from the graphic descriptions of evisceration, Bofur had taken a great deal of pleasure in telling, the thought of it had made Pearl feel queasy as well. Thorin had sighed and rolled his eyes when this had occurred, she wondered if he doubted the capability of hobbits. This did not surprise her, hobbits were often forgotten entirely or considered as little better than children, due to their retiring nature and small stature.

She pressed a wet linen cloth to Bilbo's forehead to wake him up as gently as possible. When he came round, one of the dwarves pushed him into a chair besides the fireplace, and Pearl gave him some sweet tea.

'Just give me a moment', Bilbo said, 'I will be fine, I just need to sit quietly for a moment'.

'You've been sitting quietly for far too long!', Gandalf exclaimed, disappointment etched in his voice, 'When did doilies become so important to you? What happened to the young hobbit I used to know that would go out in the wood and come back and trek mud back into the hobbit-hole? Did you know that your ancestor Bullroarer Took was so large that he could ride a horse?'

Pearl rested her hand on Bilbo's shoulder comfortingly and stared back into the other sitting-room where Thorin stood by the fire-place. She couldn't stop thinking of the story of his homeland, how it was torn away from him, by the dragon. The complete loss of a dwarven kingdom in a moment, it didn't seem that it could be real, yet it had actually happened.

'We should help them', Pearl said.

'_We?', _asked Gandalf and her heart jumped in its cage, perhaps she had misunderstood his meaning entirely and she shouldn't have come after all. What use is a hobbit, let alone a hobbit-girl?

'I think that it would be fortunate if you also accompanied us, it would be amiss to take just the one burglar, I propose that we would be wise to have a reserve', Gandalf said.

'I'm not paying for two burglars, Gandalf. Only one contract has been written', Thorin declared. He was standing in the doorway now.

They both ignored Bilbo's exclamation of, '-reserve? What about me? This isn't about evisceration again, is it?'

'That is reasonable, we should not pay Pearl as a burglar unless she has to do any actual burglary. However she should keep a small share of treasure we may find, since she has truly excellent skill with a bow, she will not be such a burden', Gandalf said his eyes twinkling.

Pearl did not want to be involved in the battle of wills that was being carried out between the dwarf and the wizard, let alone be the _reason _for it, however she could not help but feel excitement course through her. Thirty-five and she might finally do something different, travel somewhere new, have an...adventure. Pearl was not sure how Gandalf knew she was so good with a bow, perhaps he had spoken with her mother. She remembered her bow...she had left it at Bag End. It was still in the hallway. The wizard knew it certainly did not belong to Bilbo...sneaky.

'Then we should just take the girl and be done with it', Thorin rebuked.

'Oh no, you are not going off on a mad adventure with my little cousin!', Bilbo cried out. 'We will go as a pair, or I will go, Pearl is _not _running away without me. I will not stand for it, absolutely not'.

'Very well, we shall have it your way. Have Dori draw up another contract then and be quick about it', Thorin responded brusquely and pulled the wizard close, 'I cannot guarantee either of their safety and nor can I be held responsible for their fates'.

Even later the dwarves sang again, this time she wasn't amused by their song, instead Pearl felt...moved. The dwarves sang of their love of crafting, their homeland, she felt a fierce and jealous love move through her, the desire of the hearts of dwarves. Pearl felt as though she could run for miles, she wanted to leave straight away and race through trees and howl at the moon like a maniac. It imbued her with energy and excitement. The expression on Bilbo's face was enough evidence that he felt it too. They sang:

_Far over the misty mountains cold_

_To dungeons deep and caverns old_

_We must away ere break of day,_

_To seek the pale enchanted gold._

_The Dwarves of yore made mighty spells,_

_While hammers fell like ringing bells_

_In places deep, where dark things sleep,_

_In hollow halls beneath the fells._

When the song was over, Pearl felt a shiver run along her skin

Pearl was beginning to feel overwhelmingly tired, the large quantity of wine that she had consumed, taking hold of her. She made her towards the guest room, at the end of the corridor, when Gandalf stopped her with a hand on her arm. His eyes were entirely stern.

'This is a serious choice, Pearl. I will not promise that you will come back and if you do, then nothing will be the same again. Think on that and goodnight'.

She closed the door, the muffled sounds of drunken dwarves still filtered through, yet she was too tired to care. Pearl removed her dress, she had borrowed a shirt to wear as a nightgown, it would have to do for one night. She closed her eyes and had a restless sleep, filled with strange and violent dreams, gold glittered and a dragon roared.


	2. Chapter 2

A note to the reader: Thanks so much for the response from all of you wonderful readers, it has been overwhelming, I really hope that you continue to enjoy it. I'm still working on this! Just revised the first two chapters to get back into the swing of things!

Chapter Two

Pearl was wrapped in an intimate cocoon, she was unsure of the events leading up to this point but strong arms were wrapped around her waist, while the warmth emanating from the body beside her fought away the chill of the air. Soft lips pressed kisses down the back of her neck. She sighed and leaned into them.

However the lips that gave kisses so affectionately changed, turning instead into teeth that bit her throat. Pearl felt the arms constricting her, she struggled to breathe as they turned violent rather than comforting, but the grip was too strong for her to pull away. She screamed and flailed as she tried to evade the assault.

The vision evaporated and the guest room of Bag-End greeted her widely opened eyes. She sat upright so quickly that the room swayed before her eyes, Pearl deduced that she must have fallen from the bed during the night because she was now sitting on wooden floorboards. Bed-sheets and blankets had followed, they were tangled around her legs and part of it had been covering her face when she awoke. It was just a dream, Pearl reassured herself and slowly stood up, it was not even the most disturbing one in her restless sleep. Unsettling dreams had plagued her throughout the whole night: in particular, a roaring dragon had continuously disturbed her sleep. Pearl sighed and smoothed out the night shirt, hopelessly creased from her tossing and turning, she suspected that the singing of the dwarves that had affected her so much and the large consumption of wine could be blamed as the catalyst for the strange visions.

Light streamed into the small room from the partially opened door, although the room was only dimly lit, it was enough that Pearl could set about amending the bare condition of the bed. Pearl could not help but resent the lack of windows, and wondered how she was supposed to know the time without neither a clock nor sunlight in the room. The candelabrum had long since burnt its candles out.

Pearl winced at the dull, throbbing sensation that was insistently aching behind her eyes. For once her hobbit-stomach was not making itself known with loud grumbles. She was filled with regret for greedily drinking the fourth glass of wine: this important day required her to be alert. The word _important _strutted across her mind and Pearl was stuck with a sense of urgency as she recalled the previous night. The dwarves! How could she have forgotten?

Anticipation knotted in her stomach and made her feel even more nauseous: which she had not believed possible. She wondered if there would be a second contract, one that was waiting for a signature…for _her_ signature. The conviction of both Bilbo and Gandalf that she should accompany them had come as a surprise. Pearl could not think of a tangible benefit that her presence would provide for the grey wizard. Not that being entirely enigmatic would be surprising behaviour from a wizard, Pearl thought to herself, a smile spreading across her lips. She only knew of the grey wizard but it was so often repeated, that the robed men were notorious meddlers in the affairs of others, that she assumed there must be some element of truth in the saying.

Pearl dressed quickly, the possibility of the contract quelling the urge to climb back into the small bed: she discarded the borrowed shirt onto the nearby chair. She picked up the small, hand mirror that had been left on the table. Her reflection declared that she looked akin to someone that had been dragged, backwards through a hedge. Possibly kicking and screaming. Strands of tangled curls sprung away from her head at odd angles, making her resemble a furious cat: she hurriedly ran her fingers through the mane in a futile attempt to calm it. She walked barefoot to the door, moving with purposeful quiet, in case her cousin was still sleeping.

She walked into the dining-room, and found it abandoned, lacking any signs of the previous night's activities. The emptiness of Bag-End was confirmed as walked down the hallway, glancing into more empty rooms, none of the dwarves remained in the hobbit-hole. Pearl could easily believe that the strange events of the evening, the coarse guests, had just been another strange dream. But she knew better than that, it _was _real. She was not sure if the dwarves had stayed for the night or had left after breakfast. The dining-room was impeccably tidy, all of the furniture had been returned to its proper place, neatness belied the chaotic evening that had occurred here. Even the dirty crockery was gone. Pearl felt a little disappointed that the dwarves had already left, without waking either of the hobbits.

'I was just about to wake you up', Bilbo said from behind her.

Pearl jumped at the sound of her cousin's voice: she swung an arm wildly in her rush to turn around and hit her elbow on the back of a dining-chair, in a moment of impressive clumsiness. Her heart racing, she felt both embarrassed and a little grumpy, turning a petulant gaze towards Bilbo.

'Are you trying to kill me before my time? Don't do that!', she cried.

'Oh, I keep saying that you should never miss breakfast. It always makes you like this. But we cannot start bickering about that, we do not have time, I'm sorry to say. Look at this note', Bilbo said. He passed her a small, folded piece of parchment.

Bilbo kept hold of one piece of parchment in his own hand: it looked different to the one that he had given to her. Oh dear, Pearl thought as she was flooded with realisation, the dwarves had stumbled across the stationary drawer. The parchment she held had dried roses flat-pressed into its surface, it was expensive note-paper and most importantly, it was decidedly womanly. It was hardly something that any of the dwarves would own, especially Thorin, Pearl was certain that they had pilfered it from a drawer in Bag-End.

'An interesting choice of parchment, wouldn't you say?', she asked her cousin.

She couldn't resist the grin that stretched across her face when a look of comprehension and exasperation crossed her cousin's face. Her laughter echoed around the room.

'This is from my mother's letter set!', Bilbo said, a clear tone of outrage in his voice.

'Don't make me laugh so much, it's making my headache worse!', Pearl complained.

Despite the unusual choice of paper, it was indeed a contract, and one that had been written just for her. Pearl released a breath that she hadn't been aware of holding as her eyes scanned the contract. Hastily written sentences were scrawled over the paper, the contract was significantly smaller than Bilbo's reels of parchment and it was the size of one hand. The note read:

_Contract of Pearl Brandybuck: In role as __**Scout**__ for Thorin and Company, or in any other role that they see fit, at their sole discretion from time to time. Monetary reward will be non-negotiable. Thorin and Company cannot be held accountable for any loss of health, limbs or life. Or be held accountable for any other unforeseen, adverse effects of the undertaking._

A large and elaborate signature graced the bottom of the parchment, it belonged to Thorin. The contract had been witnessed by Balin and all that remained was for Pearl's signature to join the others. Pearl could feel Bilbo's eyes on her as she stared at the parchment, overwhelmed by indecision.

'What will you do?' he asked.

'I'm...not sure', Pearl admitted.

'We need to go. They left a note behind: it said that we are to meet them at the Green Dragon Inn, but at eleven this morning. We are already late', Bilbo said.

'Have you signed yours?' Pearl asked.

'I-I have', he said.

Pearl looked up at him in surprise, the regret was clear in his voice but it did not diminish his decision to sign the contract. So it was decided. She would not leave her retiring cousin to go on an exciting expedition without her: she could not allow him to go alone. If he did, then she would forever wonder, until he returned to the Shire with an explanation. Or, unbearably, did not return at all. They would do this together. She snatched up a bottle of ink and a quill that had been left on the mantelpiece, then wrote her name at the bottom of the contract in green-ink.

'I need to gather a few things before we can leave', Bilbo said.

Both of the hobbits eventually found themselves outside. Bilbo had packed a small knapsack and found a little-used bedroll: it had been carelessly discarded at the back of a closet. They had used the bedrolls as children- when the weather was warm and they felt adventurous enough to sleep under the stars. Bilbo had been insistent on taking his walking stick. They had not walked far when he stopped.

'We have to go back!', he exclaimed. 'I've forgotten all of my money and my pocket-handkerchief, this is not good at all'.

'We can't go back now- you're the one that said we were already late. Besides', she continued, 'We need to make a little detour'.

'Whatever could we need to make a detour for? We're terribly late already, the note specifically requested for us to be punctual, which we are evidently not. And if we _are _to make a detour then we may as well go and get my handkerchief', Bilbo replied stubbornly.

Bilbo was a respectable hobbit, and was not accustomed to lateness since he was unfailingly punctual for all things. But I can't leave without seeing Brandy Hall one last time, Pearl decided. She wanted one last memory of her childhood home before she left, so even if she did not return, or she did return but was irrevocably changed, then at least there would be a remnant of it.

'Do you want me to leave in a dress, with one bow, and nothing else?', she asked.

'Well, of course not. I mean, yes, we will have to collect some provisions for you. But what if your mother attempts to stop you? I would rather cross a dragon than Mirabella Brandybuck', Bilbo replied, evidently flustered, running his hands down his waistcoat.

'Do not fear, my dear cousin, for I have a plan', Pearl reassured him.

'This has got to be one of the most idiotic- ouch- plans in the history of foolish decisions', Bilbo grumbled.

He was crouched behind a large shrub, creating the curious impression of talking vegetation: he was supposed to be the lookout for hobbits walking along the pathway. Pearl sighed.

'Keep watching the path! What are you doing in that shrub?', she asked him with exasperation.

'I would have you know that this is a very thorny shrub, so could you possibly hurry up?', Bilbo asked.

'I'm trying!' Pearl replied as she struggled with the window pane.

The window was more of a challenge to open than she had expected, it had been loose in its frame for a while and she was sure that it could be forced open. Except it was resisting the pull of her fingertips and Bilbo's grouchiness was not helping her to concentrate-

Pearl sighed in satisfaction when the round pane of glass fell into her hands: she placed it gently on the grass, away from the now empty window-frame. Pearl also placed her bow delicately on the ground and clambered through the small window. She was grateful that the wooden-framed bed, with its many soft cushions, was placed directly beneath it. Slipping through the frame, she landed on the bed, in a crouch like a cat. Pearl began quickly attempting to locate her own knapsack and bedroll.

She started with the large chest in the corner of her room: it was extremely heavy with a metal frame, so she opened the lid carefully. There was a green silk purse containing an assortment of gold and silver coins, which she put it to one side. An old locket was at the bottom of the chest, she had forgotten all about it, having thrown it in after an argument with her mother. It was made from silver, soft and pale lines etched into the metal formed the elaborate design of a tree, and a tiny emerald was set at its base. Pearl opened the locket and looked at the two tiny portraits contained inside, one of her mother and one of her father. This should never have been thrown in here: she scolded herself, how foolish of me. She placed the long chain around her neck at once since she did not want to risk losing it again.

The knapsack was found at the bottom of her armoire, and the bedroll had been thrown beneath the bed, she quickly placed her possessions inside the bag. She placed her precious soaps into the bag, and some pocket-handkerchiefs for her cousin. Pearl snatched up all of her arrows, the quiver would be very heavy to carry, but she suspected that they would need all of them. She also placed some matches and her water-skin into the bag as an afterthought.

'Pearl, please hurry.' Bilbo called impatiently.

She threw the knapsack and the quiver of arrows through the round window first- they landed on the ground with a small _thud, _and quickly followed them. Bilbo was still crouched, looking uncharacteristically dishevelled and undignified, in the bushes. Pearl placed the knapsack on her back and the quiver over her shoulder, she picked up her bow- finally they were ready. She just hoped that the dwarves had not moved hopelessly out of their reach.

'You took your time.' Bilbo said, when she had reappeared from the window.

'It was more difficult to find everything than I had anticipated', Pearl replied. It would have been easier if I was tidier, she realised and fought down the feeling of shame that this admittance caused, but Bilbo did _not _to be informed of the state of her room.

'And you changed, those trousers will be a lot more practical,' Bilbo said, nodding with approval. 'I suppose will have to run, otherwise we will never find them in time. I doubt that they are still waiting at the Inn.

The two hobbits ran all the way to the Green Dragon: however it was apparent from the distinct lack of noise, that the dwarves had already left the village. They continued to run, despite their lack of breath by this point, Pearl could feel a stitch developing in her side.

'Where are you going?', a famer shouted after them.

Probably stunned to see Bilbo running anywhere, Pearl thought to herself, I didn't even know he _could _move faster than a brisk walk. Then he said something that she had never imagined Bilbo Baggins would utter in his entire life, he shouted back, at the top of his voice:

'I'm going on an adventure!'

They ran a bit further and Pearl could see a line of slow-moving ponies ahead of them. They were just outside the village, and even from a distance it was clear that it was the dwarves.

'I signed it! I signed it! Wait for us!', Bilbo shouted after them.

The trail of ponies slowed to a halt and Thorin turned towards them both. Pearl had never seen so many ponies on one place, they were not required often in Buckland other than pulling the occasional cart, and were consequently rarely seen. They were carrying all kinds of baggage, packages and parcels. Pearl was sure that they must have enough supplies to last the company for months, and she was apprehensive of how long they expected the expedition to last.

Bilbo handed his contract to Balin, since he was the dwarf that had written it, who took it from the hobbit quickly. Pearl followed his example and passed over her own contract. Balin took out a spectacle to inspect the signatures before nodding towards Thorin. Pearl thought it was strange that the dwarves could be so chaotic at times and yet also so concerned with legislation. She wondered if it stemmed from their natural ability as craftsmen, she had read that their race was renowned for crafting some of the most beautiful and elegant items throughout the land, it required that they bring balance between order and the chaos of nature. It could be greed, the cynical part of her mind whispered: they could be attempting to avoid giving the due payment. Pearl ignored this suggestion, she would give the dwarves more time, before she judged their character.

'Give them a pony each! Up you two get, we are already late', Thorin called.

Two of the ponies were significantly smaller than the others, it seemed likely that they were chosen with the two shorter members of the party in mind, they were of just the right height. Dwalin easily dropped from his pony and walked towards Bilbo, lifting him up without permission and placing him into the saddle unceremoniously.

'This won't be necessary! I will walk, I'm sure that I can keep up,' Bilbo pleaded, 'I'm very experienced in various types of walking- a slow meander, the brisk pace, long-distance-'

'We have many miles to cross and little time, you will need the pony', Thorin said bluntly.

Pearl was picked up next and placed on a small, white pony. Well- predominantly white, she realised, the pony also had little black patches here and there, which looked like freckles. My mother would laugh herself silly if she could see this, Pearl thought to herself, she always wanted me to learn horseback riding. Nothing like learning from experience, I suppose. Pearl tried to relax on the saddle, although pony was moving very slowly, it still felt like she was rocking wildly, adrift on a raft in the middle of a storm. She sincerely hoped that the fear of falling and breaking your neck passed relatively quickly.

Their ponies were trotting alongside Gandalf, who rode on a magnificent white horse, it towered over them. A round-shaped object flew over Pearl's head, it had been thrown from behind her, only to be caught by Bifur. The dwarves were talking amongst themselves, some sounded excited and others were agitated, she wanted to see what had their attention but didn't want to risk turning and falling from her pony.

'What is that about, Gandalf?', Bilbo asked.

'Oh, a few amongst the party found it amusing to place bets on whether you would come or not', he replied innocently.

'And what did you think we would do?', Bilbo asked.

Another bag of coins flew over Pearl's head and landed safely in Gandalf's lap.

'Well that answers your question!', Pearl exclaimed.

Gandalf laughed and it set the hobbits off as well. Bilbo seemed more comfortable on his pony: it was a light shade of brown, with bright eyes. She was called Myrtle and it was evident from the way he scratched her ears and fed her apples, that Bilbo was completely enamoured with her. Even if it was clear that he was reluctant to stay in the saddle for any longer than absolutely necessary. That was a sentiment that Pearl could sympathise with, although her pony was amiable and docile, it was just unnatural for a hobbit to ride a horse. Her own pony was called Patches, she had to resist the urge to roll her eyes when Gandalf had told her, since it would have been impolite. Don't worry Patches, she thought to herself, I will give you plenty of apples to amend this wrong done to you.

Bilbo began to sniffle and rubbed at his face.

'This horse hair!', he complained. 'It's giving me allergies and I've completely forgotten to bring my handkerchief.'

'Here, use this!', shouted Bofur.

Bilbo caught the dirty looking rag that was thrown towards him, it looked as if it had never been washed, and possibly been torn from some part of Bofur's shirt. Pearl wouldn't have been surprised if had never washed, if that was the case. Bilbo pulled it towards his face but the smell of the rag seemed to make him reconsider, he dropped it onto the ground and sighed with frustration.

'You will have to manage without handkerchiefs and a good many other things, before you get the journey's end', Bofur advised.

Pearl pulled the knapsack into her lap, it took a great deal of concentration and attention to her balance in order to remain seated on the pony, but eventually she managed to take out one of the pocket-handkerchiefs. The relief that spread over Bilbo's face when she passed it to him, made her laugh all over again.

'Oh! Thank you! Leaving without my handkerchief was almost as bad as leaving without my walking stick would have been', Bilbo said.

'You're welcome', Pearl replied with a smile.

For the first few hours they passed through hobbit-lands, the roads were wide and well-kept, there were even a few Inns that looked warm and hospitable. Every now and then, they would encounter another traveller, normally a dwarf or a farmer about their own business. The dwarves spoke amongst themselves, loudly and with a great deal of laughter during this part of the day.

Pearl was beginning to feel a little more secure as she wobbled atop of Patches, when Kili and Fili rode their ponies so that they were on either side of Pearl's pony, she had a sudden desire to send a plea for help towards Gandalf with her eyes. But he was animatedly conversing with Bilbo.

'So, we were wondering- what does a young hobbit, like yourself, do all day?', Fili asked.

The question was surprising, she had assumed that the dwarves would be disinterested in her culture, however she noticed a few of the others attempting to surreptitiously glance in their direction. She suspected that they would be disinterested once she explained, she doubted that there was enough excitement and hoards of treasure to appeal to the imagination of a dwarf.

'Well, assuming that you even _are _young. We have met so few hobbits that you could be ancient and we wouldn't even know,' Kili said with a laugh.

'I was thirty-five this year,' Pearl replied. She understood that Men believed it was rude to ask a Lady their age however hobbits were not concerned with such things, they liked to be precise. The eldest hobbits would proudly declare their age and would repeatedly tell their favourite stories from their long lives to younger relatives.

'We consider ourselves adults at the age of thirty-three, so I am still young, in the age of Man I would probably be about twenty-five', she guessed, 'We live around a hundred years, is that the same for dwarves?'

'Not at all!', cried Kili. 'Our uncle, Thorin, is...one hundred and ninety-five'.

'No, he isn't', Fili immediately disagreed. 'He's only one hundred and ninety'.

Pearl was surprised by the longevity of the dwarven life-span, and particularly by Thorin's age, she had not thought that he would be that old. Although, I'm more curious about this description of _Uncle, _she thought to herself.

'Thorin is your Uncle? Doesn't that make you royalty?', Pearl asked.

The two dwarves paused to think about the question, and then Fili answered:

'You could say that', he replied, 'Although our Uncle is still a Prince, the exile of our people meant that he did not have a coronation, so it would be more accurate to see that we are the direct descendants of the line of Durin'.

'It would also be accurate to say that we are both dangerously handsome and irresistible', Kili said with a wink.

'Not when you eat with your mouth open', Pearl replied.

This made both of the brothers laugh. Perhaps I can adjust to their brashness, Pearl thought to herself, they are amusing.

'You didn't answer our question', Kili pointed out.

'Young hobbits will usually either work, if they have to, or have a great deal of spare time', Pearl explained, 'I fall into the latter category- unfortunately it means that my mother is attempting to find suitors and marry me off. She won't forgive us if we don't give her at least four grandchildren each'.

Kili and Fili found this difficult to comprehend, they explained to Pearl the dwindling nature of the dwarves, and that very few women were born to them. Their numbers were not bolstered by the tendency of dwarves to commit completely to their craft, or suffer from unrequited love. This didn't surprise Pearl at all, she imagined that dwarves would be jealous and stubborn in love, if the one they fell for was unavailable then they would not accept another. She wondered about the leader of their group, his appearance belied his age, he was still strong and hardy. There had been a vast undercurrent of rage in his eyes when had spoken of Smaug the dragon, it seemed as if it could consume him entirely. He needs to find consolation in this expedition, Pearl thought to herself, otherwise Thorin Oakenshield could be completely lost.

Later they came to the Lone-lands, the roads became steadily narrower with very little of their original stone paving remaining, they encountered nobody else after this point. Pearl shuddered to think of anybody inhabiting such an area of the country, she couldn't believe that it was only a days travel away from her comfortable hobbit-hole and she had never known. Large hills rose in front of the company, covered in ancient and dark trees, that loomed over them. There were castles on a few of the hills, although they did not resemble the ones that Pearl had read about, these one were dark. Cruelty seemed to be etched into the very stones they were formed from, the architecture were harsh and forbidding, Pearl suspected that if any Princesses had lived in these then it would have been a short and unpleasant existence.

Pearl's stomach growled loudly and declared that it was supper-time. The weather had steadily worsened throughout the day and rain had gradually soaked through all of her clothing. Rain water dripped down her face and a chill was beginning to spread along her skin. Her hands hurt from the cold and from holding the pony's reigns. Patch was also tiring, stumbling on the occasional stones, the last evidence of a long-forgotten path and tossing her head around in irritation.

'I'm sure the rain has gotten into all of my dry clothes and the food-bags', Bilbo grumbled. Pearl was grateful for the interruption of the silence that fallen over the group, as the weather had worsened, the mood of the company had also declined to the point that everyone was too grumpy to talk.

'If it has then we will have to dry them on a fire', Pearl said, 'We must stop soon...'

They camped on one of the hills, within a clump of trees, there was a clearing along one side and it exposed the entire landscape below them. Pearl would have thought it beautiful but she was too tired and sore from riding to care about the aesthetics of their camp. Bofur and Bombur quickly had a large and wonderfully warm fire burning, it greatly improved the mood of everyone, especially when supper was cooked upon it. Dwarves must be able to make a fire in any weather, Pearl decided, she would never have been able to light one with damp matches and firewood.

Pearl felt more like herself once she had changed to drier clothes, although it had been difficult, she waited until the company were eating supper. Then she sneaked behind a particularly large tree, just away from the camp, and hoped that nobody investigated her absence. Thorin had not eaten but did not follow her either, so Pearl assumed he hadn't noticed. She laid out her green jacket and dark trousers besides the fire. Her muscles felt sore and stiff but the great warmth that radiated from their camp-fire relieved some of the pain, she lay as close to it as she dared, like a lazy house-cat during winter. She had just closed her eyes when a loud cry jolted her back to awareness.

'What was that? Wolves?', cried Bilbo.

'Yes, what was that noise?', Pearl asked.

'That was no wolf,' Fili responded, 'That was a pack of Orcs, throat-cutters, they prowl the woods at night looking for unsuspecting travellers'.

'Then they sneak into the camp, quickly and quietly, there isn't time to scream', Kili said, completing his brother's explanation.

Pearl looked at Bilbo, not sure of the correct reaction to this revelation, he also looked agitated that camp could be swooped on by a pack of Orcs. She didn't realise they were being teased until Kili and Fili started laughing. The knot in her stomach eased slightly but she felt irritated with them, it seemed mean-spirited. She was sure that she wouldn't have laughed at them. Thorin had been standing at the edge of their camp, staring down at the landscape below, seemingly lost in thought. He looked towards them at the sound of his nephew's laughter.

'So you think an attack by Orcs is funny, do you?', he asked harshly.

Kili and Fili looked remorseful immediately and Pearl could not remain angry with them when she saw their expression. They really were only teasing, she realised, they weren't trying to mock us.

'We, no-'

'We...didn't mean anything by it', Kili offered weakly.

'No, you didn't. You know nothing of Orc raids', Thorin berated him. He glared at them both before returning to his previous position.

'Don't mind him', Balin offered, 'Thorin has more reason than most to hate Orcs'.

'Why is that?', Pearl asked.

'After we had lost Erebor, the dwarven forces allied in an attempt to retake the great stronghold of Moria. However the enemy, both Orcs and goblins had got their first, they polluted and corrupted the great halls of our ancestors. We were outnumbered and they were led by the pale Orc, a giant, he called himself Azog. However we were to come to know him as Azog the Defiler', Balin said.

Thorin remained with his back facing them and did not acknowledge that this account concerned him. Pearl wondered how he felt, hearing this account of an historical battle that he had experienced first-hand, and whether it disturbed him. The lack of reaction from their leader seemed to encourage Balin and he continued:

'Azog the Defiler had vowed to wipe out the entire line of Durin, and began with the King, he cut of his head. His son, Thráin, was driven mad by grief.'

'Was Thorin there?', Pearl asked.

'He was. We were leaderless and divided and that was when I saw him, someone that I could call King. He stood alone against the Orc, his armour was lost and he defended himself with nothing more than a wooden branch', Balin finished.

'But what about Azog? What happened to the white Goblin?', Bilbo wanted to know.

Balin seemed reluctant to say anymore and glanced towards the other side of the camp. Thorin turned around at the inquiry and moved towards them, a fierce expression on his face.

'That filth slunk back to the whole he came from and died of his wounds long ago', he said.

Thorin walked over to the craggy-rock that jutted out of the hill and gave a small amount of shelter to their camp, he laid out his bedroll and leaned against the side of the rock as a sort-of pillow.

'I will check on the ponies', Bilbo said.

He means that he will feed Myrtle even _more _apples, Pearl thought with amusement, she expected the pony to become significantly fatter. She glanced across the camp, it confirmed her suspicion, she could see that Thorin was not asleep but staring into the fire instead. Pearl picked up the lone wooden-bowl left near the fire and tipped the last of the hearty stew into it. She walked quietly across the camp, since the other dwarves were now snoring loudly, her bare-feet almost completely silent. Pearl kneeled down next to Thorin and put the bowl of warm stew down in front of him.

'You forgot to eat', she informed him.

Blue eyes met hers. Pearl decided that she liked them, even if they were mostly used to scowl or were narrowed in anger, and they carried dark shadows beneath them. The thought of Thrór being beheaded, in the presence of his kin, it made her feel sick. She couldn't let Thorin sleep with that as his last thought. The constant gaze made Pearl feel uncomfortable and she looked down at the bowl instead.

'I did not forget- I simply wasn't hungry,' he said in a flat tone, barely moving his mouth.

'You should have some anyway, especially now that you're travelling with two hobbits. Between Bilbo, Bombur and I, you should expect a rapid reduction in the food-supplies', Pearl urged.

Thorin sighed, sat up a little straighter and picked up the bowl.

'Does this please you?', he demanded to know.

'Yes', Pearl replied with a small smile.

'Both of you are only here because Gandalf was so insistent', Thorin told her.

'I know', Pearl agreed. 'And although I'm only a hobbit, if I can help you, then I will do so'.

'We shall see', he said.

Pearl was relieved that he agreed to have the stew, at least, even if it was begrudgingly. She wasn't entirely sure of the reason but this dark-haired, exiled dwarven Prince had remained on the fringes of her mind since they had met. It isn't sympathy, she decided, it had contributed to her decision to join the company but it was not the root of her fascination.

'There are leaves caught in your hair', Thorin observed.

'Oh dear, they must have been from the trees...' Pearl answered unintelligibly.

She wondered on occasion if her hair was consciously attempting to make a spectacle of her, it so often misbehaved, although the leaves were easily removed. Pearl felt an inexplicable feeling of pleasure that Thorin had noticed the leaves, since it meant that Thorin had been looking at her, it was comforting to know that she wasn't the only with a tendency towards staring recently.

'It does seems likely', Thorin replied.

Pearl thought that she saw his lips twitch into something that resembled a half-smile, although she would admit that the stew could also have just burned him.


End file.
